


Super Powers

by VictoryTofu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Cutting, Developing Relationship, F/M, M/M, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoryTofu/pseuds/VictoryTofu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative Universe Beacon Hills.  The crew wakes up with superpowers and no idea how they got them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embarrass yourself in Record Time

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a long-form story. I'll add Tags as they come up. Unbeta'd, let me know if there are glaring grammatical errors. Or, better still, if you wanna beta.

Stiles

I groaned and stretched as I squinted into the daylight. Crap! Daylight means I'm late to my history exam first period. I fumbled for my alarm clock- dead. I fought through the pile of clothes on the floor until I found my phone. Whoa, two pm. So, school isn't going to happen today.

Dad must be on a double shift, coz there is no way he'd let me oversleep when he just had to go to a special parent teacher conference with Mr. Heinz about my 'failure to pay attention'. It was oddly stuffy in my room, so I flicked the switch for the ceiling fan. It didn't move. I tried the light switch- no dice.

"Great, power's out." I muttered to my empty room. I wondered how much of the block was affected, or if it was just my house and opened the window for a breeze. The cool air rushed over my face and my badder reminded me that fourteen hours is a long time to go without taking a piss. I turned to speed into the bathroom, as soon as I saw the open door, I was there. That's not hyperbole. The instant that I saw where I needed to be, I was standing there. Naked. The shock calmed my aching bladder for a moment. I looked back and saw my pajama pants, teeshirt and socks in a pile in the hallway. The pressure returned and I turned back to the toilet.

While I was taking what might be the longest piss in recorded history, I tried to reason it out. I had to pee, I'm still groggy from sleep. I simply don't remember walking into the bathroom. After getting naked in the hallway.

Yeah. Super likely.

It's a crazy idea, but Scott, my best (and honestly, only) friend loves to remind me that most of my ideas are crazy. I have to know... Did I just teleport? Is that even a thing I'm considering right now? Is this what going insane feels like?

I have to admit, if being a psycho means I get to feel like I teleport, I might not be so opposed.

After the grande finale to my epic piss, I stood back, focused and thought "teleport to my bedroom." I was thinking pretty hard about it, to the point that my face was all scrunched up and I'm sure, if anyone had seen me standing naked, balling my fists and making constipation-face, they'd be sure I had lost it.

Nothing happened.

I like science, so I know you have to recreate an experiment to prove anything. I walked out to my pile of clothes and turned to the bathroom. With much less focus, I was there.

Boom, I can teleport.

I CAN FUCKING TELEPORT!!!

I may or may not have danced around the hallway naked doing a celebratory jig, but c'mon, this was amazing. I spent the next few hours practicing and testing my awesome new ability.

I was a bit underwhelmed. First off, my range of teleportation is about 20 feet. Actually, it's 19 feet and 10 1/4 inches (measuring tape, thanks nearly unused tool box!) but most guys exaggerate just a few inches, right? Secondly, I have to be able to see where I'm going. Lame. And thirdly, clothes don't like to come with me. Thank god I had my braces off last summer or dad would kill me. After about an hour, and a lot of concentration, I am able to teleport wearing bike shorts and a way-too-small teeshirt from 7th grade spirit day. Shoes just weren't happening.

I have got to tell Scott. For some reason my cellphone had no coverage, so I can't text him to tell him that his best friend is now super powered, but by now school's out and since lacrosse has no practice today, he'll be at work.

I know I look ridiculous, but I could not care less. I added yellow flip flops to my black-and-neon green spandex bike shorts and gold-and-burgundy tee, then walked out to the driveway. The street was dead- no one was out. It struck me as a little odd, usually at this time of the afternoon there'd be people walking dogs or coming home from school. There weren't even any old ladies gardening.

Better for me! I couldn't wait to use my power, but I'm not too sure about doing it in public, yet. I don't wanna get taken away by the government and tested or whatever Alex Mack was worried about on that show. I idly considered what sort of mask I'll get to fight crime and teleported to the car. Then I 'ported back to where my flip flops were, picked them up and walked to the car. Maybe those crazy toe-shoes would stay on? File that away for later. I climbed in my jeep and tried to start her- wouldn't turn over. Great. Power's out And my battery's dead. Perfect. Well, I guess I'm walking to the vet's.

This is just awesome. I develop the ability to teleport, but can't do it without losing shoes, so I'm walking the half hour or so to Scott's job. After about twenty minutes of seeing absolutely no-one else I start to get a little antsy. I may have overlooked something here. First off- there's no power anywhere. Not just my block. Also- no cell service, at all. Thirdly, no other humans. I saw some birds and squirrels and whatever, but no humanoids. I may have let the whole teleporting thing distract me.

Now I'm really starting to freak out- what if I am really crazy, or having some insane lucid dream. What if I died and this is purgatory? A million other scenarios wash over my head and I can feel the familiar chest-tightening of a panic attack coming on when I see something down the street. It shines so much I can't look right at it. At first I think it's a flash light or something being waved as me, but it's too big.

I start running, in flip flops, so I trip almost immediately. Once I pick myself up, I start speed-walking toward... Whatever that is until I can make out a rough shape.

Oh my god it's a robot. Robots have kidnapped all of the humans and given me superpowers. Ok- maybe not likely, but it's a working theory. I'm maybe a block away from the possible-robot-genocide-ist and realize the robot is wearing jeans and a red polo, both pretty torn up. Also, it's not a robot, it's a person. A glass person. Walking and not breaking. Suddenly my short-range nudity-inducing teleportation doesn't seem so bad, I could always be Glass-Boy.

I get closer still and holy shit. Those cheekbones, the shoulders, the perfect jawline- it's Jackson fucking Whittemore. Lacross Captain, Swim Team Captain, class president, and boyfriend of my one true love. And he looks brilliant. Not the smart-kind, the gem-stone kind. I mean, he is brilliant, he has like a 4.4 even with all of his extracurriculars, but he's shining like a diamond.

Oh. Not Glass-Boy. Diamond-Man.

"Ja-Jackson?!?" I call out, mainly to test to see if he's real, or if I'm hallucinating him, too. "Jackson, can you hear me?" No response. Well, he usually ignores me at school unless he's scolding me for missing a shot in lacrosse, so it's not really out of the ordinary, but still unsettling. "Jackson, man, Oi! Hello?!?" He's just a few yards from me, now, but he's unchanged, still marching down them middle of the suburban road at a fast clip. His face set, handsome but unimpressed, gaze locked on the horizon.

He still shines in the sunlight, but I can look at him without hurting my eyes now. He looks beat up. That's not true, he looks perfect- like he was cut from- ha- diamond, but he's wearing only one shoe, his jeans are torn up way worse than I thought and his shirt is really more of an idea of a shirt than an actual garment. Worse, they are covered in what looks like ash and burn marks. And his face- his hair, which also has a diamond shine, is a bed-headed mess, not his usual tall pomp. And tears. He's got tears on his cheeks. His eyes might have been red from crying if they weren't, you know, diamond.

All in all, a pretty unique sight.

"Jackson!" I shout at him and grab his wrist. He's cold, hard, but not sharp like a stone would be, just like, a moving rock. He stops and spins to me, looks shocked. He glances at his wrist, I tighten my grasp, then he meets me eyes.

"Stilinski?" His voice is certainly Jackson, but with a strange echo to it. "Wh-what..." He looks confused and, for a moment, I begin to feel bad for him. "-What are you wearing? Is that neon spandex?"

I let out a harsh sigh and throw his wrist back to him. "Really? That's the big mystery to you? My shorts? Not the fact that we seem to be the only people left in Beacon Hills or that there's no electricity or that you're a freakin' diamond or that I can do this?!?" I punctuate my rant by teleporting a few feet to my right, then back to where I was.

Damnit, I'm naked.

I quickly put my shorts and shirt back on and make a mental note about remembering to 'port With my clothes. Jackson and I had seen each other naked in the locker room tons before, but I recently tried out some new manscaping that could have gone better. Jackson seemed only mildly impressed. "So, what? You can embarrass yourself in record time?" I can't stand Jackson, by the way.

"Dude! I can teleport! You're made out of diamond! We're super heroes! Well, you might be a super villain. Or maybe an anti-hero? Do you have any redeeming character traits? Why are you looking at me like that? Wait, Jackson, come back to me, here, no more zoning out!" Jackson was ignoring me again, instead looking down at his hands clenching and flexing his fingers.

"What am I?" He whispered, presumably to himself, but I'm right here and am sick of being ignored. "What the hell am I?"

"Jackson, I shook his shoulders and moved my head down to look him in the eye. "Jackson, if we're gonna figure out what happened to us and save the princess, you need to not freak out. Now, why are your clothes like that?"

"Save what princess?"

"Ohmygod there's no princess, it's a figure of speech, like, we need to save... Whatever, don't worry about it, forget it, more important things on our agenda." I took a breath and realized we were still standing in the road. "C'mon, I haven't seen a car all day, but I don't like being in the middle of the street." I started toward a house on the street with a porch swing. Jackson seemed to hesitate for a moment, rolled his eyes and followed.

"I woke up like this" Jackson said as he sat down next to me. "I was driving last night, last time I looked at the clock it was 2:02."

"Why were you driving at two am?" That earned me a glare, and although Jackson's glares were chilly when he's pink and fleshy, his diamond glare was an arctic blast.

"It keeps my mind occupied. Anyway, I was driving, and I must have blacked out, 'coz when I woke up it was daylight, my car was wrapped around a tree, and my clothes were burnt. I guess I survived an accident and a fire. You know, 'coz I'm..."

"Diamond?"

"I was thinking 'A freak' but yeah." Jackson looked down at his feet, or was he looking at mine? Either way, his expression was back to indifferent, maybe a hint of sadness, but nowhere near the smug satisfaction I know so well from him.

"Ok, so, I woke up and I could teleport, but thankfully I was in bed by midnight last night and not in a car. Hey! Do you have reception?"

"Huh?"

"On your phone."

"My phone is gone."

"Oh, right, car fire."

"No, I crushed it."

"What? Like in your hand?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see if I could." Fair enough, I guess. We sat in silence. The only noise the birds chirping in the late afternoon sunlight. It really was a beautiful day.

"I don't feel anything." Jackson spoke up after a few minutes. "I mean, I can feel the porch swing and I can feel you," I realized our arms were touching. I hadn't noticed, he's so cold and hard I assumed it was part of the swing. "But I can't feel, like, emotions." 

Oh snap, I'm having a conversation about emotions with Jackson Whittemore.

"Well, that sort of explains why you've been such a dick all your life-"

"No, moron," Jackson interrupted, "since I woke up, like... This. Like, I know I should be worried, but I don't Feel it, I know I should be happy to see another person alive, but I just feel... Nothing." Wow, Jackson just said he was happy to see me... or should be. Sorta. Small victories, people. 

"I'm sorry, man, maybe you're in shock, you know? I've read that people in shock feel isolated from their emotions."

"No, I can tell. I just, like, Know, that this is how I am. Like, second nature. The same way that I know I can do this." Jackson stood up, picked a softball sized rock up from the garden, and crushed it in his fist like it was made of dry play-dough. Wowzers.

He leaned against the porch's railing, "Besides, I actually like it." Jackson is handsome, like male-model handsome, but the way his body was positioned, his pensive, quiet expression, he looked like he belonged in a museum. "I used to feel ashamed and useless whenever I was awake and most of when I was asleep. Feeling nothing is better." Jackson was staring straight ahead now, and I did not see that coming. I mean, I know bullies usually bully because they dislike themselves, but Jesus, Jax had it bad.

"Dude, why-"

"Am I telling you this?" He interrupted again. Apparently having no emotions means you also have no tact. "I don't know. Never told anyone, was too embarrassed. Now I don't have 'embarrassed', I guess." Jackson shrugged.

"No, why are you ashamed? C'mon, Jax, you've got everything! You're the golden boy of Beacon Hills, er, diamond boy, now," I laugh and my own little joke, Jackson just furrows his perfect eyebrows.

After a beat he looks at me in the eye, "Honestly, because I worry that if I fail at anything, anything at all, my parents will realize they shouldn't have adopted me and what a mistake I am." He punctuated the sentence with a shrug of her shoulder and looked away. I suddenly found it a lot harder to hate Jackson. Had this been any other day of my life, I would have been focused on that little emotional epiphany- however today, the world had gone insane. Fortunately, Jackson seemed to think the same thing.

"Who else do you think is alive?" Apparently we're done with the 'touchy feely' section of the day, "And do you think they have superpowers now, too?" Jackson was shifting gears and getting up to speed on the gameplay pretty fast, I'll admit. "Do you think it's the whole world, or just Beacon Hills?" Jackson caught the sunlight and it shone through him and off of him in a billion streams. He looked amazing, and I could feel myself staring. "Stiles, I know I look phenomenal, more now than ever, but we need to focus."

I snapped out of it and tried to think. "Yeah, ok. First off- you're all over the place today. I like it. Secondly, I have no idea what my plan is. I was on my way to tell Scott about the teleporting thing, but that was before I got a little worried about there being No One else left in town." I paused, stood up and started back to the street. "I'm going downtown to find my dad. He was probably at the police station when whatever happened... happened, so I'm checking there."

"Unless he was driving his car on patrol. The he could be anywhere, and probably crashed it like I did. And unless he also became a living gemstone, he's either hurt or dead." Jackson without emotions was just as much of a downer as Jackson with emotions.

"Dude! We're going to think positively, ok?" Jackson seemed to be ignoring me. He was removing what was left of his shirt and admiring himself in the sunlight. I sighed. "So, are you coming with me or what?" Jackson looked up and nodded.

We silently walked toward the main strip in Beacon Hills. Calling it 'downtown' was being a little generous. It was a couple of blocks where the government buildings and few restaurants and shops were located. I guessed it was about a forty five minute walk from where we were. I hate silence, and even if Jackson is back to being as standoffish as ever, I had to talk. My throat compelled me.

"So, do you think you can change back? To a fleshy-meaty human?" Jackson shrugged.

"I wouldn't know how to try."

"Well, I teleport by just, you know, thinking about being in another place, like, really wanting it." I grabbed Jackson by the shoulder and stopped him. We stood face to face, "Here, just, like, just close your eyes and think about being all pink and freckley and soft-"

"I'm none if those things. I'm tan and toned."

"And freckley."

"I have freckles. Being freckley sounds like something a six year old girl would be."

"Holy Shit, just, fine, however you see yourself, imagine that." I let go of his shoulders and stood back a foot or so. Jackson's expression tensed slightly, then suddenly, the diamond shimmer faded and he was normal. He opened his eyes, examined his hands and smirked. Ah, great, back to smirking. He inhaled and then went all shimmery again, and there was diamond Jax. It only took a second, maybe less, for him to change. He faded back to regular-meat-human once more and looked up to me, face reeking of arrogance. As soon as our eyes locked, his face fell.

"If you say one word about what I told you to ANYone, I will crush you!" Jackson grabbed my tight shirt in his fists and pulled me in close. I could tell he was going for furious and intimidating, but his face read "embarrassed panic".

"Dude, about what? Your low self esteem problem?" He shook me. Then I realized, oh, I'm made for this. I 'ported behind Jackson. Score! Shirt and shorts came with me this time! "Dude, calm down! Who would I even tell?"

Jackson turned around and charged toward me, I rapidly teleported a few more times until I was safely about fifty feet away from an unstable Jackson. "Stop that, you spaz!" He growled out.

"Calm down, asshole! I won't tell anyone you're a sad, broken little child who cries himself to sleep each night!" Alright, maybe that crossed a line into antagonizing, but can you blame me?

"Fuck you, Stilinski!" He was still advancing toward me, running was getting boring, so I looked up and 'ported on to the roof of a house.

"I like you more as a rock!" Teleporting this much was actually kind of tiring. I started to pace on the roof, because, hello, hyperactive kid here. This turned out to be a bad idea as I stepped on a loose shingle, fell backwards, and the world went black.

...


	2. A Homeless Gymnast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson tries to make sense of his situation. Also he likes his powers, a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but it's hard to write action. It's really easy for me to write dialogue, but action is hard for me. Again, anyone wanna make a Diamond-Jackson photomanip, please do.

Jackson

Shifting from diamond back to flesh is trippy. Looking down at my hands and vaguely aware of Stilinski's babbling, I focus on what I know I look like as a regular human. It takes a split second, and it's like diving into a pool. The world feels harsher, rougher and I feel weaker. And the emotions.

I know that people talk about going into a 'blind rage' or 'seeing red' or whatever, but that doesn't really describe what having all of your emotions rush back to you is like. It's like a spark landing on a pool of gasoline, all of the fear and anxiety and "not good enough" came rushing back and I couldn't think around it. After the calm blank-ness I felt in my diamond form, the crush of emotions was too much. I was terrified Stilinski would tell people about my, whatever, issues, and that is simply unacceptable. So I might have threatened him a bit.

Stiles's power is pretty lame, but Jesus is it annoying. I don't really remember chasing him until he's teleported onto the roof of some garage in a pretty low-rent neighborhood. He's taunting me, certainly not assuaging my need to put the fear of god in him, and the idiot falls on his head and rolls off of the roof.

I can't stand Stilinski on a good day, but that doesn't mean I want him dead. I'm able to catch him and keep him from breaking his spine, but he's out cold. I'm a lifeguard at the club during the summer, so I know how to make sure the moron is still alive. After a few minutes trying to slap him awake and shouting his name, I give up and assess my situation.

My situation sucks. Stilinski and I might be the only two people left alive and for all I know he's in a coma. I'm half-naked and wearing one shoe and my car is totaled. It's starting to get dark out and shit shit SHIT. A lifetime of masking my emotions has given me a very reliable sense of when I'm about to freak out, I need a way to calm down. I gave up cutting when I realized it was starting to leave scars and I don't have any booze with me so I can't get plastered.

Oh, yeah, superpowers.

I focus and everything feels like it's on the other side of a window. I look down at my body, smooth and shiny and hard. I really do look fantastic in the light. I know I'm afraid; afraid that I'm going to be the reason Stilinski is dead, scared that I'm alone, really alone. But I can't feel it, and that by itself is great. It's like my emotions are displayed on a screen that I can read and disregard. I'm panicking? No problem, just ignore it.

Without the flurry of anxiety and fear, I'm able to think clearly. Stilinski seemed reasonably sure his dad would be at the police station. Or dead in a car accident. The police station is closer to where we are now than my parents' house. And my parents are out of the country, anyway. I wonder if whatever happened to Beacon Hills also happened in Frankfurt. I guess the police station it is. If anywhere in town still has power, it'll be there. It's late autumn, so the sun's setting even though it's only late afternoon. I don't have time to wait for Stilinski to come to.

I look down at Stilinski's unconscious, slack body. His head is resting in my lap. He's almost cute when he's not talking. Gross. I can't believe I just thought of Stilinski as cute. Put that out of your mind, Whittemore. As a diamond, I've got super-strength or whatever, so I barely notice the weight when I pick him up in a bridal hold, with his dumb head resting on my left shoulder. I work him around to get him comfortable, or the most comfortable position for a 16-year-old to be held by a guy made out of diamond and make my way towards the station, pausing to pick up his absurd flip-flops.

Beacon Hills is a pretty small town, and I know my way around fairly well. I've been running ten miles a day, every day, since junior high when my dad said it was the best way to hone endurance. I know the shortest path to the station is going to take me through the cemetery. By the time I reach the gates, it's pitch black out. No streetlights, just the nearly full moon glinting off of my stunningly reflective body.

I can tell I'm scared of walking into a cemetery, functionally alone, in the dark, in a ghost town, but I'm able to ignore that and kick the gate open. Not five minutes into walking through the cemetery and I see something out of the corner of my eye. I stop to take a closer look- it's a kid, curled up on the grass against a gravestone. I take a few steps closer, he's asleep, dirty and shivering.

"Lahey?" It's a benchwarmer from lacrosse. His name is Isaac Lahey; skinny, tall, curly hair, would be a great midfielder if he didn't seem to shy away from actually touching other players. I've still got an armful of dead-Stilinski-weight, so I walk over to Lahey and kick his thigh a few times. "Lahey, wake up!" His eyes snap open and he skitters back.

"Holy Fu- Wh... Jackson? Is that you?" The confusion on his face reminds me I'm still all diamond-ed out. I shift back, and realize that I'm both unbelievably thrilled to find another person and actually really concerned for Stilinski's head trauma. "What the fuck is going on? Why are you holding Stiles?"

"Stiles hit his head because he's an idiot," and much heavier when I don't have super strength, "We both woke up with super powers and the town seems deserted. There's no electricity and we're trying to get to the police station." Huh, pretty straightforward for the craziest day of my life.

"Why are you wearing one shoe? And why is Stiles dressed like a homeless gymnast?"

"Not important. Why are you alone in a graveyard?"

"I work here," he looked sheepish, "I dig graves third shift, and I guess I passed out last night, I woke up this afternoon, and I couldn't find anyone, so I just sorta... Waited... I guess I fell asleep..." Lahey trailed off. "Wait... Superpowers?"

I don't have time for this. "Yes, I can shift to diamond, Stiles can teleport, badly. Can you do anything?" If he can, it'd better be good.

Lahey stood up and reached out to Stilinski. "I don't know, but I feel like... Something tells me I can help." He put his left hand on Stilinski's forearm and his right on his forehead. Before I say anything, blue-black lines draw themselves up Lahey's hands and arms. Lahey's grimacing like he's in pain, and Stilinski's eyes jump open and he gasps.

Alright, so Lahey might come in handy. "Did you just... Heal him?" I have no idea how to talk to people about freakin' superpowers. I am either in a coma having a wild coma-dream or I have gone completely insane. He's busy looking at the fading lines on his arms and not being useful, when Stiles decides to speak up.

"Are you going to break my back like Bain did to Batman?" Jesus, is he always 'on'?

"How's your head?"

"Hurts like hell- wait, did I fall off of that roof?!?" I guess Lahey's healing power has limits, like Stilinksi's range. I wonder what my limits are.

"I caught you. You hit your head but nothing seems broken. I waited with you in that yard for forever 'till it started getting dark. We ran into Lahey, he has a healing power or something." I sigh, glance up to Lahey and raise my voice a bit. "Apparently his other power is standing around, adding nothing."

Lahey looked up from his hands, mouth slightly open and eyes wide. He could not look any more dull. "Oh, hey, Stiles." He waved slightly.

"Dude! Thank god! And thank you, you really healed me?" Stiles was clearly feeling better, as he was practically vibrating in my arms. Still, I didn't feel like putting him down, yet.

"Um, yeah, I guess I did." Lahey seemed afraid of us, not holding eye contact for more than a moment and acting exceptionally interested in some old headstones.

"Awesome, Jax is a tank, you're a healer! This is going great!" I chuckled in spite of myself. Stiles's face lit up. "Closet Nerd! J'accuse!"

"Danny loves RPGs," I shift into diamond form and the weakness or affection or whatever Stiles's dumb smile made me feel is gone. Much better this way. "I shouldn't have attacked you." I catch his eye for a moment then dart my head forward. Really. I just-" I cannot believe I'm saying this out loud, "I know I'm a little immature sometimes, but the shock from transitioning so quickly from no feelings to all the fear and anxiety and whatever, I sorta freaked out. Sorry." Stiles was quiet for a moment.

"Jackson, you may or may not have schizoid personality disorder, but it's ok. I mean, forget about it, I just wanna find my dad."

I start toward downtown again. "You coming Lahey? We might need you if Stilinski gets a splinter." I call toward the dark huddle of stones he's sequestered himself by.

"Uh, y-yeah," he trotted up to my right and fell in step a few paces behind me.

"Thanks for not leaving me. I could have been eaten by chipmunks. Don't laugh. It's a real concern!" I heard a soft laugh from Lahey. "Um, I think I can walk."

I realized I'd been carrying Stilinski like a sick child since he woke up about ten minutes earlier. "Yeah, well good, I'm sick of carrying you." I stopped, handed him his flip-flops and put him on his feet, then grabbed his waist as he immediately began fall forward. I hooked my arm around his shoulders, "Let's try this."

With minimal protests from Stilinski, he let me assist him as we continued. The guy talked nearly the whole way with the exceedingly rare interjection from Isaac. I remained silent. I'd never admit it, even to myself when I'm human, but he's actually kind of entertaining. He rambled about superhero names, what might have caused our powers, the need for costumes, and about a million other topics. A half hour later and we are looking at the sheriff's office.

Which was Pitch black and silent. No street lights, no emergency lights, and no cars, save for those abandoned in the parking lot; so much for the sheriff helping. "So... Maybe they're all out on patrol?" Lahey offered.

"Let's just, we gotta check it out," Stilinksi wrangled himself from my grip and marched toward the main doors. I followed him closely and Lahey trailed behind us. The building was unlocked, so we slipped inside without effort.

It was like Jonestown. A woman was slumped over the reception desk, two officers were laying on the floor near a vending machine. Stilinski vanished, leaving his shoes behind. "Dad?!?" He was calling, anxiously, from somewhere in the station, teleporting around, presumably, to cover more ground.

I felt the reception desk woman's pulse, steady and strong. "Lahey, can you heal her?" His eyes were wide and round.

"I, lemme try." He put his shaky hands on hers, there are no lines drawing up his arms. He squeezed her hands harder. "It, it doesn't feel like with Stiles. With him, I could, like, pull something out of him, I guess. With her, there's nothing to take."

"What about them?" I motioned to the two uniformed officers. "Try them." He obeyed, crouching over the men he looked up at me and shook his head.

"I think they're just sleeping. Or in a coma or something, I don't know what we can do."

I looked down at the woman in the chair, her face on her keyboard. "WAKE UP!!!" I shouted and smashed my fists down on the desk so hard it I left fist-prints. Nothing. "I don't think they're getting up," I said tonelessly, then I realized Stilinksi hadn't shouted for his dad for a few moments.

"Stilinski! Where are you?" I called into the dark hallways. The only response was a faint breathy sound echoing through the halls. "Lahey, go that way, I'll search down here. We'll meet back here once we find him." I took off without waiting for a response. Following the sound of labored breathing, I find Stilinski in what must be his dad's office. The sheriff is on the ground, crumpled next to a filing cabinet with a broken mug of spilled coffee in his hand. Stilinski is rocking back and forth next to his dad's body, arms wrapped around his knees and tears on his face.

I don't have time for this. "Calm down, he's alive. All of the cops here are just blacked out." My voice is cold, Stilinski doesn't stop rocking. I walk next to him and put my hand on his shoulder to force him to stop. He squirms away and keeps moving. I really don't want to deal with this, but find myself shifting back to human. Crap, now I feel bad and find myself on my knees in front of Stilinski. This time I put my hands on his shoulders, but instead of stopping him harshly, I simply try to ground him and slow his frantic motions.

"Stiles, breath with me, you're hyperventilating." Panic attack. That's what this is, I suddenly remembered that Stilinski used to get these horrible panic attacks back after his mom died, like, five years ago. "You're dad's ok, really. Isaac checked the other cops and nothing's wrong, they're just sleeping, blacked out." I moved to be next to him, my left hand on his left shoulder, my right hand rubbing slow circles on his back. He was still breathing heavily, slower now, silently crying.

"H- he's not dead?" Stilinksi's voice was small and broken. He wouldn't move his eyes from his dad. They were red rimmed and glassy. I'd say beautiful, but he is in the throes of a panic attack. I lead his hand to his dad's carotid and let him feel the pulse.

"He's alive, Stiles," I could see the tension pulling Stiliinski's body tight vanish nearly immediately. And then he hugged me, to which I had no idea how to respond. I think he could sense how awkward I felt, because he quickly released me and leaned back against the filing cabinet. "You, uhh..." I have no idea what to say but I feel really bad just watching him pull himself back together. Thankfully, it's Stilinski and he fills the silence for me.

"It's how I found my mom. I came home from school and she was on the floor of her office. She worked from home, she was a restaurant reviewer for the paper, I don't know if your remember. Anyway, the doctor said she'd had a stroke and was gone before she hit the floor. When I saw my dad like this, I just-" he wiped tears from his chin and sniffled, "I had nightmares for years, I still do sometimes, of finding my dad like that, and it happened and I'm sorry, this is pretty embarra-"

"Stop, no, Stiles, finding your dad like this would be traumatizing even if we weren't in the middle of... Super power day, you know?" I am terrible with words, but Stilinski seemed better for it, he smiled, weakly. I reached out and gave his shoulder a short grasp, much easier than a hug, then maneuvered the sheriff into the recovery position. Stilinski and I exchange a glance and stand up.

"Well, what now? I mean, My working theory is that everyone in town blacked out last night, and those of us who woke up 12 hours later have fun new powers, but what are we supposed to do? There's no electricity and I'm super hungry. Oh, Man, I totally forgot that I haven't eaten since I woke up! I'm friggin' starving! We need to find some food. And Isaac! We need to find Isaac and food." There's the Stilinski I'm used to, hungry and unable to focus. I shift to diamond form and follow him to the hall. Isaac is there, holding giant police-regulation flashlights.

"I found these, thought they'd be useful, you know, since there's no light?" We took the offered lights and Stilinski shone his at my chest. The light scattered and lit up the station.

"You'd make a great chandelier, dude," Stilinski laughed.

"I'd be the best, but it'd be a waste of my talents," I shove past the two giggling idiots and make me way to the entrance.

"Where are you going?" Isaac sounds very needy, and it's a good thing I'm diamond or I'd be irritated.

"There's a 7-11 across the street, Stilinski is hungry, and I want some beer." I call over my shoulder as I exit the building. They've caught up to me quickly enough when I'm crossing the street and Stillinski is babbling about whether or not the hot dogs would still be good after nearly a day of no heat when Lahey drops like a rock.

"What The Fuck?!?" Stilinski is at his side in a second. He rolls Lahey onto his back, there are two small darts in his neck. As soon as I notice this, I hear three little clinks and see three darts bounce off of my chest and hit the cement.

"Stilinski, teleport out of here! Hide somew-" He looks up when I start yelling, and as soon as he make eye contact, two darts hit his neck and one whizzes by. He makes an attempt to move his hand to the darts, but is out in under a second. His body slouches over Lahey's and I narrow my eyes.

I don't feel angry, exactly, but I know I have anger. "Where The Fuck Are You?!?" I scream into the darkness of the street, shining the flashlight around too fast to really see anything. Then I have an idea, I grab the light that Stilinksi was still clutching, and shine both at my chest. The street lights up like I'm a mirror ball.

Oh, fuck me.

There have to be ten, maybe fifteen people, dressed in what looks like riot gear and circling us. They all have guns trained on me. I hear a few more darts ineffectually clink against my diamond skin and fall to the ground. There is some shouting between these idiots and I ready myself for a fight.

Four of the solders or whatever they are rush at me. They attempt to tackle me, but not only do I have super strength like this, but apparently I weigh more, because I am easily able to hold my own. I catch one with a left hook that smashes his helmet and he goes down. I pick one up at toss him into a tree. The tree snaps, and I think his back does, too. I have the remaining two jerks punching my sides, so I pick them up by their necks. I'm not that tall, but I can easily keep them off of their feet. I squeeze until they go limp and toss them aside.

The remaining assholes seem a little gun shy about taking offense now. I reach down and pick up a few of the darts that didn't pierce my skin and charge at one, slamming the darts into a break in his shielding. He goes down and I begin to think I might be able to take all of these dudes out.

"Charge loaded! Get back!" One of them shouts and I turn to see what looks like a rifle-mounted stun gun, crackling in the darkness. It makes contact with my abs and everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. please give me a week to get number 3 out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying not to be derivative with the gang's superpowers, but Jackson with Emma Frost's Diamond form just makes all shades of sense to me. I don't know how it would ever come up, but a live-action Emma Frost Gender-swap would certainly look like Colton Haynes. Maybe if someone wants to make some fan-art...
> 
> Stay Tuned for the next chapter, hopefully in the next day or so.


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